


Perfect

by OnceUponACaskett



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Baby, F/F, Fluff, but not too much a/b/o
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24921295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnceUponACaskett/pseuds/OnceUponACaskett
Summary: Villanelle stared down at the tiny bundle in her arms, still in complete and utter shock that he was here.  Her son.ORA cute ass fluffy one-shot that sees Eve and Villanelle moments after their first kid is born.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 7
Kudos: 188





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> The a/b/o dynamic was written in purely because I can't see these two willingly doing in vitro or adoption to have a kid. So it kinda had to happen on accident as in like, Villanelle actually knocking up Eve. And I really just wanted to write some really cute fluff on Villanelle being a parent. Let me know if you wanna see more.

Villanelle stared down at the tiny bundle in her arms, still in complete and utter shock that he was here.

Her son.

Eve was in a deep sleep, finally resting after a long and arduous labor. However, once the piercing cry of their newborn child had filled the air, they’d both forgotten the curses and swearing Eve had thrown her way.

Seeing Eve hold their son for the first time had brought tears to Villanelle’s eyes. He was perfect. She was perfect. They were perfect.

For pretty much her entire life, Villanelle had never thought that she would be this type of person. And once she’d joined The Twelve, she certainly had never allowed herself to think she’d have any of this. No mate, no child, no family. No home. Some things just weren’t meant for people like her.

But then Eve walked into her life and changed it forever.

Suddenly she had someone to love; someone who would love her in return. Someone she could watch movies with and cook dinner for and fall asleep next to. Someone who accepted her for who she was and never flinched at the (admittedly) horrible things she’d done throughout her life.

It wasn’t until 9 months ago, though, that their cycles finally synced up and they were mated. They’d spent three whole days wrapped up in each other, blissed out with pleasure as they fucked nonstop.

As it does, however, mating came with a pretty big consequence. Eve wasn’t on birth control and Villanelle had completely forgotten to put a condom on for their first frenzied coupling. They had shrugged it off, both figuring with Eve’s age that nothing would come of it as long as they used protection from then on.

Oh how wrong they were.

Roughly two months later, Villanelle had come home to Eve staring down at a positive pregnancy test on the counter.

She vividly remembered the urge to panic, to turn tail and run towards the nearest pub. Which was truly saying something considering the fact that Villanelle never drank anything stronger than champagne.

They had never discussed kids and she’d had no idea if Eve wanted them. Hell, she’d had no idea if _she_ wanted them. How could someone like her—someone so emotionally stunted and ruthless—be a parent? She’d been described as an “agent of chaos” and even been called a monster before…so was it possible for her to raise a tiny human?

As a testament to her growth and change as a person, though, Villanelle hadn’t run. She’d stayed, pulling Eve with her to the kitchen table and sat them both down. Their conversation had lasted well into the night as they discussed what they should do.

Surprisingly, it hadn’t taken long for them to reach the same conclusion: they were going to keep it. What followed after their decision had been the worst part. Villanelle hated feeling vulnerable, but this wasn’t going to work if she didn’t tell Eve the truth.

Back and forth, they’d went, both relaying their own fears about the situation and helping one another through their insecurities. They cried, they laughed, and then they cried some more. But never yelled. She and Eve actively worked hard to make sure they never raised their voices at each other. If a fight ever got to the point of shouting, then that meant it was time for them to take a step back and really think about what they were arguing about.

The next seven months seemed to simultaneously drag on and fly by. Eve’s morning sickness kicked in and Villanelle found each day crawling by. Eve was constantly snippy and tired, drained from having her head stuck in a toilet all the time.

When she finally stopped throwing up, time sped up. Suddenly, there was so much to do and hardly any time to do it in. Doctor appointments, a nursery to set up, colors and toys and clothes and cribs and names. Before they knew, Eve’s was nearly nine months pregnant and going into labor early in the morning.

Labor was hard and, though she would never say it out loud to her mate, Villanelle was incredibly grateful that she was an alpha and would never give birth. Because there was no way she would _ever_ want to go through that.

It took fourteen hours—fourteen very very long sweat-and-scream-filled hours—but their son finally made his way into the world crying his tiny little head off.

And now here he was. Swaddled snugly in a soft pink blanket because “pink is a very good color, Eve. Just because he’s a boy doesn’t mean he can’t like it. Don’t be so heteronormative.”

Eve hadn’t had the strength to do anything but smile. Who was she to argue anyway? After all, they’d painted their nursery a light lavender and pale green—hardly traditional baby colors.

Villanelle felt a momentary surge of panic as the baby in her arms began to squirm and let out little whines. Acting on instinct and what she’d seen from movies, she stood up from her chair and lightly rocked him.

“Shh, little man, shh. You can’t wake your mother. She’s tired and needs to sleep.” Villanelle didn’t actually think it would work, but she was proven wrong. Her son settled down once again, his tiny mouth opening widely in the cutest yawn she’d ever seen.

“Your mother already has me wrapped around her finger, and now you do too,” she whispered as she continued to sway back and forth with him. “If I’m not careful, people will think I’ve gone soft.”

“Too late,” Eve mumbled, having awakened a moment earlier. “They already do.”

Villanelle frowned indignantly. “Take that back.”

Eve chuckled. “Sorry, baby, but it’s true.” Holding out her arms, she gestured for the baby. “Now gimme our son.”

Complying, Villanelle gently laid him in Eve’s arms. “You’re supposed to be resting, you know.”

“I can rest later. For now, I want to hold my baby.” She shifted over on the bed to make room for Villanelle.

Sitting down next to Eve, Villanelle placed her arm around Eve’s shoulders, her cheek against her head.

“We made a pretty good looking kid, huh?”

Villanelle puffed out her chest, the alpha inside her bursting with pride. “Of course we did. He is going to be smart and beautiful like his mother and clever and charismatic like his mama. And he will get his strength from both of us.”

“You know, I’ve been thinking about and instead of just ‘mother’ or ‘mom’, I wanna be called ‘eomma’,” Eve said. “My Korean heritage is important for me and it’s just the little things that may seem trivial that are actually a pretty big deal to me.”

“I would never say your heritage is stupid or unimportant. He’ll call you eomma and I’ll be mama.” Villanelle took inhaled deeply. “But speaking of names, we need to actually give him one sooner rather than later.”

Eve hummed in agreement. “So have you decided on one? You know which one I’m leaning towards.” It had taken them several weeks to make a list of names they liked and then to narrow it down to only a few. They hadn’t been able to settle on one, though, because Villanelle was adamant about seeing their son first.

“I will know when I see him,” Villanelle had insisted, refusing to concede to the name that Eve liked on their list.

“So?” Eve asked now, looking up at her. “Do you know?”

Pursing her lips, Villanelle stared down at their son in thought. His slightly almond-shaped eyes were closed as he slept. She reached out and gently ran a finger over one pale, chubby cheek.

Finally she said, “Luka.”

Eve grinned and if she hadn’t been holding their baby, she would’ve pumped her fist in triumph. “Yes, I knew you liked it as much as I did!”

“Don’t gloat, Eve, it’s very unbecoming of you.”

Eve bumped her shoulder playfully, careful not to disturb Luka, and sighed. “Can you believe we’re parents? I mean, who would’ve seen _that one_ coming?”

Villanelle snorted in response. Certainly not either of them, that’s for damn sure. They lapsed into silence, both too content to simply sit there cuddle on the hospital bed.

“We can do this, right?” Villanelle said, a hint of doubt in her voice.

“We’re gonna be fine,” Eve replied, looking deep into her mate’s eyes. “We’ve chased each other across multiple countries. We’ve been stabbed and shot. We’ve taken down an international criminal organization that used to use you to have people killed. We’ve been through hell and back and came out on the other side stronger than before. I think we can handle raising a child.”

Villanelle leaned in and gave her a brief kiss. “You’re right. Together, we can do anything. One baby should be easy enough for us. Besides, he’s half you and half me. He’s going to be perfect.”

It takes less than three days for Villanelle to eat her own words as they’re woken up in the middle of the night for the fourth time in the last two hours.

“Is it too late to go back to the hospital and see if we can exchange him for a different baby? I think ours is broken.” Villanelle groaned into her pillow.

Eve chuckled and shoved her mate out of bed. “Should’ve known he’d be such a crier with you as his mama. Now go get him so he’ll stop.”

Villanelle left the room and was back a few minutes later, crawling into bed as exhaustion swept over her.

“Just needed a new diaper,” she mumbled. “He should be good for the next couple hours at least.”

Spoiler alert: he wasn’t.


End file.
